


Heart Song

by WizardsGirl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Konjiki no Gash!! | Zatch Bell!
Genre: Also bad at non-canon speeches, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Brago, BAMF Harry, Bad at Conflict Dialogue, Big Brother Brago, Brago!Feels, Brago's History - Freeform, Canon Typical Violence, Demons, Fight Scenes, Gen, Gets a little Dark in a bit, Hurt/Comfort, Mamodo, Maybe - Freeform, More tags as I go, OC, Only Brago's not very good at feelings, So also srry, Title isn't very creative so apologies for that too, Using the Japanese version of Character names, he tries though, just FYI, ooc, srry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 10:24:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1601465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WizardsGirl/pseuds/WizardsGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's next big adventure after death isn't exactly what he thought it would be but, hey! He's got a big brother to look after now... Though Brago seems to have the same idea...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Next Great Adventure

**Author's Note:**

> I'm almost to the end of Season Two of Zatch Bell, and I decided that this needed to be done, so yay~! ^-^

**Heart Song**

 

Prologue

 

_Death._

_It’s something everyone must face one day. Eternal and everywhere, it starts as soon as we are born, and waits patiently for our time to come, so that we could be reclaimed._

_I knew that I would die young. I knew that, in this war for the Wizarding World, I would fall. And, because I knew this, when Death came to collect me after Voldemort had fallen by my own hand, I knew there would be no third chance, no Dumbledore to send me back, no soul fragment to keep me tied to the Living World._

_I had enough time to smile for my friends one last time, before Death took me from them._

_Dumbledore told me that Death was just another great adventure. I don’t think he meant that, when I died (permanently, at least), I would end up in another world._

_But, then again, Dumbledore was human, and they are nothing if not fallible._

 

**~*~*~*~*~**

 

“Hario, don’t bother your brother,” Mother scolded quietly as the young Mamodo tried to see what his brother was doing. The child, who could be no older than three, immediately stilled and sent the female demon a sheepish smile.

“Hai, Kaasan,” he replied softly, and then skipped away to go and play by the pond, leaving Brago to his training. Hario paused at the water’s edge, and stared intently at his reflection, taking in the differences from his past life. His hair was as black as it had been before; only now the messiness of it was artful, looking almost like flames, just like his brothers. His eyes were a darker green, irises large and doleful in his cute, pudgy face, a thin line sliding down his cheeks from his lower eyelid. On his right cheek, right under his eye, was the black music note that was his birthmark, and Hario grinned, exposing his shark-like teeth.

A small explosion startled him and, with a yelp, Hario fell into the pond, sputtering and thrashing for several seconds before he managed to right himself, sloshing out of the water and rubbing it out of his eyes, clothes and hair hanging down, soaked through. He heard laughter, and lifted his head to find his mother and father praising Brago, who had managed his first spell at just five years old, a 'prodigy' they claimed, fussing over the smirking, intimidating boy. Hario smiled faintly, not minding the seclusion from the small family get-together. He was twenty years old in spirit, after all, and he had never needed parents before. Besides, his older brother was tinged with darkness, loving the thrill of a violent fight. Maybe a bit more attention would lighten him up, soften his ragged edges.

Turning, Hario made his way back towards their house, never noticing his brother's eyes watching him sharply as the soaking wet child disappeared behind the front door. Lips thinning slightly, slanted eyes narrowing, Brago shook off his parents hands and praises, and turned sharply away, going right back to his training. His parents spoke pridefully of his dedication and went back to chatting together nearby, supervising him but not trying to help.

“Tch,” Brago growled to himself, and began to work harder, anger coiling in his gut. They were useless, a tailor and a mediocre cook, so enthusiastic about Brago showing an inclination to train for the upcoming Demon King Battle, that they were ignoring their other child, except to scold him when he bothered Brago (not that Hario ever _did_ , of course). They didn't seem to notice that their actions were leaving Hario on his own, to fend for himself.

Abandoning him, in a way.

Anger coursed through his blood, and the next spell was twice as strong because of it, leaving a large crater and earning applause and crowing enthusiasm from his parents. Brago didn't, _couldn't_ , look at them, clawed hands curling into small, tight fists at his sides, hair shadowing his eyes and mouth tight and thin in ire, sharp-teeth gritted.

He _would_ become King.

Hario would have someone to protect him and look up to, someone strong and fierce and who he could trust to take care of him and the rest of Demon World. Someone who wouldn't fall to those worthless, petty emotions like their parents had. He would make his brother's world strong and safe and protected.

It was his duty as a big brother.

 

**~*~*~*~*~**

 

Hario clung to his brothers hand, his pale, cream skin standing out against the pasty, dead-like blue-white of the older Mamodo. The six-year-olds green eyes were shadowed and dull as he stared down at the two fresh graves in front of them. Brago didn't seem phased by their parents deaths at all, and wouldn't have even bothered coming to their funeral if Hario hadn't been there. Closing his eyes, the six-year-old tightened his hand on his brothers, ignoring the faint pinch of the eight-year-olds claws against his skin, and heard his brother huff in resigned irritation.

“Come, Hario,” Brago ordered after a few more minutes of impatiently waiting; he pulled his hand from his brother's and turned, hands slipping into the pockets of his black fur cloak. Hario hesitated, glancing sadly at their parents graves, before turning and hurrying after his older brother, trotting along behind him in silence.

“What are we gonna do now, Oniisama?” he asked as they neared their empty home, using the respectful term for elder brother as he did so.

“Tch,” was all Brago replied, glancing back at him with narrowed eyes. “Don't waste time on worthless things, Hario,” he snapped sternly; Hario winced slightly but nodded, biting back a sigh as Brago turned and ordered him to the house, leaving him standing alone on the doorstep as the older demon went off to no doubt train. Sadly, Hario shook his head, and reluctantly entered the achingly empty house.

His plans to let Brago be nurtured by their parents and hopefully be changed had backfired rather spectacularly. Instead of softening with the constant love and praise, Brago had grown resentful and hard, apparently taking offense with their parents easy disregard of Hario, despite the fact that Brago himself hadn't talked with his little brother very much at all since he was born.

Sighing, Hario made himself and Brago a simple dinner, leaving his brother's plate wrapped and waiting on the table, before going around the house and absently cleaning, habits from his past life kicking in. As the sun sank low in the sky, Hario settled himself in bed, and fell into a restless sleep without the soft sounds of his parents talking, or the steady steps of his brother pacing, as he did most nights since Brago needed very little sleep at all.

Brago returned late into the night, cloak over one shoulder and strong, leanly muscled arms mostly bare. He hung up his cloak, ate his cold dinner, and paced the house, repeatedly pausing at his brother's door to listen to his breathing and make sure he slept soundly. Hario was restless, however, and whimpered occasionally, no doubt plagued by nightmares or other disturbing dreams. Brago's hands curled into white-knuckled fists, and he glared at the floor, teeth bared in a vicious snarl, muscles so tense you could see them in clear definition. A purple aura of power rose off his skin, and the very air seemed to grow heavy as his power over gravity itself made an appearance...

A louder whimper made him stop, taking slow, deep breaths, until the aura had faded away and his muscles were as relaxed as they usually got. Listening carefully to Hario settle again, Brago silently pushed the door open and went to his brother's side, staring broodingly down at the small child as he slept. Several minutes passed as Hario slept on, occasionally turning about, a small frown on his soft face. Brago watched him intensely, before slowly reaching out one pasty-colored hand, fingers tense and the moonlight from the nearby window flashing on the sharpness of his claws as they neared his vulnerable little brother.

Silently, he gripped the blanket, and pulled it into a better position on Hario's body, before stepping back and leaving the room, door open a small crack so he could better hear Hario if he was needed. There would be no sleep for Brago this night, and, instead, he spent it silently pacing the house, a constant guard for the little boy who slept alone in the otherwise empty house.

 

**~*~*~*~*~**

 

“Stop!” Hario demanded as he caught two older Mamodo cruelly throwing rocks at a cat-like demon, who was cringing against the base of the school buildings wall. The two boys paused and looked over at him, meanly leering faces darkening as they recognized the eight-year-old.

“Well, well, well,” one of the boys mocked, fire-orange hair sleek and spiky, yellow eyes narrow and mean, snake-like in their appearance and fangs lending more to the likeness. “If it isn't the _prodigy's_ little brother! What, did big brother leave you all on your own while he went to his 'special' training?” He sneered; his friend, who had blue hair and brown eyes, and a strange, blue-silver-gray camouflage suit on with matching headband, snickered as the two turned their full t-attention on Hario, the small, white cat-Mamodo taking the chance to quickly flee, most likely to get a teacher.

“Pick on someone your own age and size, and maybe you'd mean more to the world than smears on the time line of those who are better,” Hario spat, glaring at the two, who's sneers turned into angry scowls and a hissing snarl.

“You little shit,” the serpentine one hissed, eyes flashing brightly. “Why don't you beg for forgiveness and _maybe_ we won't beat you to a pulp!” Hario sneered.

“I'd rather eat dirt,” he informed him with all the tartness of a demon his age.

“You little bastard!” The blue-camouflage boy snarled. “Eat _this_! **_Iceru!_** ” he flung his hands towards Hario, and several long, thin spikes of ice appeared, shooting towards the eight-year-old, who narrowed his eyes and lifted his hands, palms facing towards the two.

“ ** _Sonora!_** ” He barked, mouth staying open as a stream of green-and-silver music notes shot out, swiftly forming a circle in front of him, the empty center flashing into a green, translucent shield with a large music note of dark green in the very center. The ice spikes hit the shield and exploded into ice shrapnel, sent flying back towards the bow with a high-pitched whistle.

“Fuck!” The ice-user yelped, covering his face, and the serpentine boy hissed, leaping into the air and opening his mouth inhumanly wide as his jaw unhinged.

“ ** _Viscera Matis!_** ” A thick stream of sickly yellow fluid shot from his fangs, and smashed into Hario's shield, making the ground around it hiss as the liquid began to melt everything it touched. With a quite curse, Hario dropped the spell and leaped away, dodging what splash-back there was left, and narrowing his green eyes at the two opponents.

“ ** _Tribelo!_** ” Hario spat, opening his mouth wide and letting out a horrendous wail, a greenish wave of light exploding from his mouth in ripples, hitting the serpentine boy in the air and making him cry out as he was slammed backward into the school wall, falling to the ground with a groan.

“ ** _Bergiolus!_** ” The ice-user shouted while Hario was attacking the serpentine boy, and Hario cried out as he was viciously struck by a giant ice fist that was attached to the older Mamodo's arm. Hario hit the ground with a grunt, wheezing as he slid and rolled through the dirt, trying to quickly scramble to his feet, head and mouth bleeding.

“ ** _Iceru!_** ” He heard, and barely managed to throw his arms up to protect his face as the ice spikes slammed into him, sending him once more to the ground and leaving his arms and stomach a bloody, bruised mess.

“Not so cocky now, are you, you little shit?!” The poison-using snake-boy spat, appearing in Hario's line of vision and kicking him harshly in the ribs, making Hario grunt as his lungs were forcibly emptied. The ice-user joined him, sneering as the two of them proceeded to kick the younger demon bloody, while Hario curled into a tight ball and covered as many of his vulnerable places as he could for a few, painful moments.

“ ** _T-Tribelo!_** ” He managed to spit through bloody, gritted teeth, and opened his mouth wide, the beam of colored sound throwing his tormentors several feet away, cursing. Wheezing, Hario managed to climb once more to his feet, and stood, blood and bruised with grass and dirt clinging to various places on his body. The two older boys stood across from him, ready to attack again, when a new voice came from nearby.

“ _What_ is going on here?” A the stern, strong voice of the school principle demanded, and the three boys whirled towards her, guilty-looking, even though Hario hadn't done anything really wrong at all. Principle Ito stood there, looking stern and unforgiving in her usual yellow dress, black hair up in a bun and gold eyes locked on them, bunny-like nose wrinkled in disapproval and too-long golden rabbit-ears flaring out to the side from behind her head. Peering out from behind her legs was the cat-Mamodo that Hario had protected, looking concerned.

“Nothing, Ito-sama,” the three boys replied, Hario stuffing his hands in his pockets and watching his feet. Principle Ito narrowed her eyes at them, and bared her decidedly _un_ -rabbit-like fangs at them.

“It looks more like an unsupervised use of spells, to me, rather than 'nothing',” she informed them all coldly. “Izo!” The ice-user jumped, alarmed at being called out. “As punishment, you will be assisting the janitor for the rest of the week, before and after school, an hour each!” Izo grimaced and bowed his head.

“Hai, Ito-sama,” he muttered; the Principle turned her gold eyes on the poison-user next, and the boy cringed under her harsh gaze.

“Tatsu, you will be helping the cooks in the kitchen, with the _dishes_ , _not_ the _food_ , for the next week. All meals!” Tatsu grimaced and nodded stiffly, looking away.

“Hai, Ito-sama,” he hissed, scowling; Hario winced slightly as the rabbit-esque woman turned her angry gold gaze on him, and bowed his head to await his punishment.

“Hario, _you_ will be cleaning up the training fields for the next three days,” she ordered sternly, and Hario winced much harder this time. At first glance, the shorter time frame seemed like he was getting off easy, but the training fields took _hours_ to clean, and he would be doing it by himself most likely.

“Hai, Ito-sama,” he murmured, bowing in acceptance; the woman sniffed, and wiggled her nose for a second, before casting a hard look on the three of them.

“And you shall _all_ have to explain this to your guardians when I call them here,” she informed them coldly; Hario shrank in on himself at that, and barely even noticed the mildly sympathetic looks from the two boys he'd been fighting with.

Brago was his guardian, after all, and he would no doubt be making sure that Hario _was_ by himself cleaning the fields, for almost _losing_ rather than fighting as a whole, and Hario knew that he'd be on the end of a three-week long training session when his school-given punishment was done.

Hario sighed, shoulders slumping, and shuffled after the Principle as she led the three of them inside.

 

**~*~*~*~*~**

 

“Good luck, Oniisama,” Hario told Brago quietly as the two waited their turn to be transported to the Human World for the Demon King Battle to begin. The fourteen-year-old grunted, arms crossed as he glared in front of them. He was taller than Hario by several inches, but shorter than some demons his age. He'd grown far more Goth-like over the years as well, his specialize training giving him a dangerous feel and an aura of power. Hario only reached his shoulder at twelve-years-old, but he didn't mind.

“I'll see you at the end, Oniisama,” he informed his brother with a challenging grin, and Brago finally turned his slanted eyes onto the younger Mamodo, and smirked, moving one hand over to set it on Hario's head, digging his claws gently into the boy's hair.

“Don't disappoint me, Hario,” he ordered, holding those green eyes seriously. “I want to see how much you've grown, in the end.” Hario beamed and nodded his head determinedly, watching as his brother stalked away to be transported away. Then it was his turn.

Taking a deep breath, Hario stepped forward onto the specific section of rune-engraved stone, and clutched his side-bag, which held his green Book with it's silver etchings, close. Light flared, and he had the distinctly unpleasant feeling of being broken down into tiny pieces, and then being sucked up by a vacuum. He desperately tried not to vomit, and tried to wait the spell out.

The world spun.

He became whole.

He fell.

The ground and he met.

Pain.

Blackness.

_The battle begins..._

 

 **SPELLS:** (Please note that I created all of Hario's spells and OC's spells)

 

**GENERAL**

**Iceru –** Forms a few ice spikes which launch at the target. (Taken from the word “Ice”)

 **Bergiolus** – encases hand with ice, which grows into a massive weapon that takes on whatever shape the hand is in at the time. (Taken from the word “Iceberg)

 **Viscera Matis** – Shoots a stream of acid-like yellow liquid from mouth. (Taken from the words “Viscous” and “Materials”)

 

 **HARIO'S** (Note: “Hario” was created from the word “Aria” and made masculine with the “o” at the end, while connecting to Harry with the “H” at the beginning.)

 **Sonora –** Shoots a multitude of green-and-silver musical notes out of mouth, which form a circle in front of Hario, the center of which becomes a strong, translucent green shield with a darker green music not in the center. (Taken from the word “Sonorous”)

 **Tribelo –** Shoots a green-colored wave of noise from the mouth, usually in the form of a wail, which causes minor physical damage and is painful to hear. (Taken from “Treble Cleft”)


	2. Chapter One

**Heart Song**

** Chapter One **

****

America was interesting. There were people of every race, religion, size, shape, and sexuality. And there was prejudice in every form, from subtle to outrageous to plain. Thus far, Hario had been traveling through the bigger cities, enjoying the anonymity of being 'just another person' instead of _“Prodigy Brago's little brother”_ , which was rather like being the Boy-Who-Lived all over again, only instead of seeing him as a Savior or another Dark Lord, the other demon children saw him as someone to pity for having such a scary brother, or as someone they could manipulate and hold against Brago, and some even saw him as a threat or hidden prodigy. That was then, however, and now it hardly mattered.

As time passed, however, and he found himself without a Book Keeper, anxiety wormed its way through the contentment. Soon, other Mamodo's and their Keepers would be hunting the weaker, and, as he was now, Hario was weak. Unable to do spells, and scrounging for food in Soup Kitchens and wherever else he could, the twelve-year-old knew he was at a severe disadvantage.

So, he began to seriously look for his Book Keeper.

He asked street musicians, singers, strangers and bums. He asked store clerks and policemen and even a mugger once (though the man had then tried to run with the book, only for Hario to sink his shark-like teeth into his arm and watch him run, shrieking, as the Mamodo put his book back in his satchel and wiped blood from his mouth.). He traveled through the cities, towns, villages, and ran over the countryside, grateful that the only demons he'd run into thus far in the Battle had been as Keeper-less as he currently was. Now he was in New York, and, exhausted, he settled on a bench in one of the many parks, listening to the street performers try and earn their keep.

Beautiful music curled through the air, however, and it caught Hario's ears, making him slowly rise from the bench and follow the haunting melody of a violin. He followed the wonderful sound to a gazebo, where he found a crowd of people watching a young man play, his eyes closed and face serene. Hario, eyes bright, watched him play in silence.

He had shortly cropped black hair, and skin the color of hot chocolate. His jeans were worn and ragged, his sneakers old and tattered, and the blue long sleeved shirt he was wearing had stains on the sleeves and spotting the chest. Dark tattoos curled up around his neck, a set of praying hands on one side, and tribal-like musical notes taking up the rest of the skin, disappearing beneath his shirt. Looking at him, anyone could tell that his most prized possession was the violin he played so lovingly with scarred, tattooed hands. Hario hummed softly in the back of his throat, ignoring the faint traces of glowing green that curled from his mouth to sink into those around him, relaxing their muscles, soothing their pains, and re-energizing them as it went, his natural Mamodo Ability. After twenty minutes, the man, who could be no more than twenty-five, _at most_ , smiled as the crowd applauded vigorously, many leaving their tips in the small car board box on the floor of the gazebo. Hario crept closer and closer as the crowd thinned, watching the man closely as the crowd quickly disappeared.

“Aren't you a little young to be out here on your own?” The man asked him, a strange accent making the man sound almost uneducated, despite the fact that he clearly was, as he packed his violin into its box lovingly.

“Aren't you a little too talented to be playing street concerts?” Hario shot back, moving closer and closer as the man sat down, stretching his long legs out and beginning to count what money he'd pulled in.

“I'm a low-bred street rat with a bit of talent,” the man informed Hario with ease as he counted. “Not many places would place a bet on me, let alone sponsor any concert of mine.” Hario nodded and hopped up to sit beside the man on the opposite side of the box, kicking his feet lightly.

“My parents died when I was six and my brother raised me on his own,” Hario informed the man with just as much ease. “And now we're fighting against ninety-eight other demons to see who will become the next Demon King.” The man stilled, lifting his head to stare at Hario blankly. “My name's Hario!” The young Mamodo chirped, and pulled out his book. “Can you try and read this for me?” The man slowly took the book, still eying Hario blankly.

“What happens if I can read it?” Hario blinked and focused on the man, green eyes as wide and innocent as he could make them.

“Than that means you're my destined Book Keeper and you get to help me try and get stronger and fight the other demons to become the Demon King!” He informed the man. Slowly, the man looked down at the green-and-silver book in his hands, and, even more slowly, opened it, staring down at the black Mamodo Runes as he did.

“...I can read it,” he murmured, as a paragraph of runes began to glow bright green and shimmer like fire-turned-ink. Hario lowered his head enough that his eyes were shadowed and smiled, showing off his shark teeth.

“What's it say?” He asked slyly, turning his shadowed gaze away from the man as he lifted a tattooed finger to the page, almost in a trance.

“The first spell,” he read as the glow of the book got brighter. “ ** _Tribelo_**!” Hario's head snapped up, eyes glowing like emerald flames as his mouth opened wide, a high-pitched wail tearing from his throat as green waves of sound shot from his mouth, tearing up the ground in front of him in a steadily widening path, until it reached its limit of thirty feet. After a few seconds, his eyes dimmed back to their normal color, and he closed his mouth, turning to smile at the stunned expression on his new Keepers face, closing the book in the man's lax fingers with a gentle finality.

“My name's Hario,” he introduced himself again, holding those stunned, dark brown eyes with his own, and smiling with his shark-like teeth on show. “And I think we're going to be the very best of partners.” The man slowly blinked, and looked down at the book in his lap with a mix of wonder and wariness.

“My name's Trayvon,” he replied slowly, thoughtfully, before he raised his head, eyes sharp and bright. “Tell me more about this battle.” Hario grinned brightly, and obeyed.

 

**~*~*~*~*~**

The two of them traveled, never staying too long in any one place. Trayvon played concerts for small crowds, and Hario scrounged dumpsters for anything they could pawn. The two of them had agreed that Hario's spells were only to be used in a battle or to help someone, neither comfortable with the idea of using them against innocents just to get more money.

“It would be like cheating,” Trayvon acknowledged as the two of them sat on a pier, staring out at the ocean while they ate. Hario was gnawing on what remained of the large fish he'd caught, and Trayvon was absently chewing on the stick from his third and final corndog.

The two of them stayed on the move and stayed under the radar...

Or, at least, they thought they had.

 

**~*~*~*~*~**

Hario woke slowly, mind fuzzy and unable to feel his body at all. Blinking blearily up at the ceiling above him, confusion curled through his thoughts. A man with graying brown hair and watery brown eyes appeared in his vision, and Hario suddenly, inanely realized that he was strapped down to a table by metal manacles, a leather band keeping his head pinned down. And he was naked, he realized, as the man leaning over him poked and prodded him for a few minutes, before a dark smile curled his face.

“Can you hear me, little demon?” The man asked, voice muffled in Hario's ears, and he made a low sound in reply, blinking confusedly up at that leering face. Fingers touched his birthmark on his cheek, and he wanted to pull away, but couldn't move thanks to both the metal bars and what must have been some sort of drug in his system.

“Excellent,” the man declared with approval, before Hario felt gentle fingers on his cheeks, turning his head carefully to the side. Blinking fuzzily, Hario felt a muffled sort of dread sing through his core, as he found himself looking at the slack, unconscious face of Trayvon no more than six feet away, hooked up to monitors and machines.

“I am very pleased that you've regained consciousness, little demon,” the man who had apparently drugged them said easily as he moved about, joined by a handful of other people dressed head-to-toe in sterile, surgical gear. “I want you to see and understand everything that is happening. Don't worry, though.” The man caressed Hario's bare chest, before writing on it with what felt like a marker. “You will be helping future generations of the human race! Now, this may hurt a bit, but, well, 'no pain, no gain', wouldn't you agree?” The man chuckled and patted Hario on the stomach, before he moved away.

“Begin.”

 

**~*~*~*~*~**

 

Trayvon was dead.

He was dead, but his heart was still beating.

Hario was alive.

Alive, but _his_ heart wasn't beating.

Dull green eyes stared blankly at the wall of the neat, clean room they'd put him in, the scientists moving around on the other side of the mirror that took up one whole wall of Hario's room. He didn't look at them, though. Refused to look at his reflection, at the newest scars and sutures they'd added to his face, making him resemble a patchwork quilt.

Trayvon's heart was still beating, but he was dead.

Hario hated that steady beating, the strong _thu-thump, thu-thump_ as it pumped out blood.

He wanted to rip it out of his chest, but he couldn't bear it.

Trayvon's heart beat inside him and Hario’s lay dead inside of his Keeper's chest.

It was all he had left of the man, and he couldn't part with it, even though he hated it.

Trayvon was dead, but his heart kept Hario alive.

Hario was alive, but his heart had killed Trayvon.

Silently, the twelve-year-old closed his eyes, and listened to the steady beat of his Keeper's heart, and let his mind hide away.

 

**~*~*~*~*~**

 

The sound of flames crackling, walls crumbling, scientists screaming and howling like the damned souls they were.

Hario lifted his head slowly and stared at the mirror in his room, taking in the small cracks that had begun to appear, feeling the floor tremble with each explosive note in the air, a discordant melody that made something in his Human Heart thrum in reply. He stood slowly on his thin, scarred legs, and felt the distant thrum of his Book calling to his Human Heart. Absently, he took in his new appearance as the explosions got steadily closer. His hair had turned white from the stress of his situation, silver highlights edging the flame-like spikes. His face was held together by thick scars and black string, and his skin was nearly the same gray-blue color of his brothers. His eyes were large and dim, pupils blank. The white patient scrubs he wore nearly glowed on him, and he hated them in a vague way, so clean and untouched and not anything like his usual, comfortable clothing.

As a blast of purple light exploded against the other side of the mirror, Hario tilted his head, blinking slowly through the heat, and took in the hovering form of the demon in the opening, mildly surprised to see him.

“Zofis-san,” he hoarsely greeted one of his brothers classmates, and the effeminate fourteen-year-old paused, eyebrows rising in surprise as he took in Hario's appearance, his Book Keeper appearing next to him with a cute grin.

“Hario-chan, well, well, this _is_ a surprise,” Zofis purred, eyes half-closing and shark-like smile curling his lips, no doubt already planning on how to use Hario against Brago. Hario just stared up at him as he floated into the damaged room, and sighed lowly.

“My Keeper is dead,” he informed the older boy hollowly. “I just want to go home...” Zofis blinked, and a small frown chased the calculating look away, before the boy hesitantly nodded.

“Come then,” the boy declared, reaching out and taking Hario's hand in a firm but gentle grip. “The _least_ I could do is burn your Book for you, dear child.” Hario found himself floating through the air alongside the older, if smaller, Mamodo, Zofis' Keeper floating along on his other side, holding Zofis' other hand.

“Left,” Hario informed the fourteen-year-old as he felt his Book calling him. Zofis obligingly turned, nimbly flying the three of them through a damaged doorway. “About two rooms straight ahead,” Hario said; Zofis made a humming sound, and set his Keeper down when they came to a blank wall, a dead end, apparently. Smirking, he lifted one hand, and his fuchsia Book glowed.

“ ** _Radomu!_** ” the Keeper called; a ball of fuchsia light expanded into life before the palm of Zofis' hand, and shot towards the wall, exploding magnificently and sending rubble everywhere. With a pleased chuckle, Zofis took up his Keeper's hand again, and squeezed Hario's lightly, before they flew through the new opening. They reached the room where Hario could feel his Book, and found themselves at gunpoint by the bleeding, ruffled scientist who had been the cause of all of Hario's recent despair.

“Stay back!” The man shouted, waving the gun and clutching Hario's book to is chest, eyes wild. “Stay back, or I'll shoot you!” Hario narrowed his eyes slightly, and found himself settled on the ground by Zofis, who flew forward a little while his Keeper giggled softly.

“Such a silly man, _non_?” She asked, and flashed Hario a mischievous smile and wink, purple-toned eyes a little blank with Zofis' power. Zofis raised a hand, and a cruel smile curled his lips, exposing his shark-like fangs.

“ ** _Radomu!_** ” his Keeper called; the fuchsia ball formed quickly, and the scientist screamed and fired at the Keeper just as Zofis fired.

The scientist was blasted away.

Smoke filled the room.

Bullet met flesh and sent blood into the air.

A soft cry of pain and the sound of something hitting the floor.

Zofis flared his energy, and the smoke quickly dispersed, leaving him narrowing his eyes at what it had hidden.

Hario was standing resolute in front of Koko, blood flowing freely from the bulled wound in his shoulder, arms spread wide as he shielded the French teen from the bullet. The scientist was dead off to the side, neck having broken when his body had been thrown so harshly into the cement wall. Hario's green-and-silver book had fallen from the rubble onto the floor, scuffed but unburned.

“Silly child,” Koko informed Hario softly, curling her arms around the boy and snuggling him, rubbing her cheek against his scarred one affectionately. Hario slowly let his arms fall to his side, and then began to hum a random tune sweetly, green mist escaping his mouth and curling around his body, healing the bullet wound half-way before his body rejected the ability, as it usually did, and the mist found its way to Koko, neatly restoring what Heart Energy she had used breaking into the facility. Zofis' narrowed his eyes in consideration, and smiled faintly, before turning and floating over to the fallen Book settling on the ground in front of it.

“A pity that your Keeper is dead,” Zofis said musingly as he walked past the cuddling two, towards one of the many small fires his explosions had lit. Hario didn't say anything, just lifting his hands to gently cradle Koko's arm around his chest, dull eyes focused on the ground.

“A pity,” Zofis murmured, and dropped the Book into the fire, watching it for a moment, to make sure the fire took.

He was still watching a minute later, for a different reason, as the fire crackled on merrily, but the book remained untouched. Slowly, his eyes narrowed, and he reached forward and nimbly plucked the book from the flames, feeling the cool cover with a frown. Slowly, eyes narrowing, he turned to look at Hario, whose eyes were still on the ground as Koko leaned fully on him with a happy hum, smiling.

“Hario-chan,” he said softly, voice edged and hard under that softness as he walked slowly over, watching the twelve-year-old lift his head slowly, dull eyes hurt and confused and lost. “How did your Keeper die?” Hario stared at him for a second, then dropped his eyes again, sighing softly.

“The man who shot at your Keeper,” he murmured. “He was a scientist, trying to find a way to give Humans the power of Demons, without needing a Book or Keeper. He... He cut me open, and took out my heart,” Hario whispered, one of his hands dropping from Koko's arms to clutch at the front of his shirt as a tear slid down his cheek trailing over his birthmark and scars. “He took my Keeper's heart, and exchanged them. My heart in my Keeper, his heart in me. Trayvon... His body rejected my heart, and he died. But...” Hario shuddered and hunched his shoulders, pressing back into the surprisingly comfortable weight of the human cuddling him.

“My body accepted Trayvon's heart,” he whispered hoarsely, lifting grieving eyes to lock with Zofis' narrowed and calculating gaze. “ _His_ heart is alive, beating in my chest, and I _hate_ it,” he snarled, dull eyes blazing suddenly with glowing power, and his book in Zofis' hand glowed in response, making Zofis' eyes widen. Hario lunged forward, out of Koko's arms, and suddenly had his Book in his hand, unaware of snatching it from Zofis, before he turned to the nearest wall, book falling open and a spell glowing on the page.

“ ** _FORTEGIO MINIUM!_** ” he roared, and his mouth opened wide while tears streamed down his ruined face, an explosion of bight green and silver music notes shot out of his mouth, all of them about a foot in size. The notes slammed into the wall, exploding on impact and making the building shake dangerously, rubble falling from the ceiling as Hario let out an anguished scream and collapsed to his knees, burying his face in his still open Book and clutching at it.

“Trayvon,” he sobbed brokenly, and his heart _ached_. “Trayvon, Trayvon, Trayvon...” Arms wrapped around him, and he turned, Book sliding down to press against his chest, as he buried his face into the lightly perfumed neck of Koko, who cooed and murmured to him affectionately in French, still smiling, though it was wider now as her purple-glazed eyes took in the destruction his attack had done. Zofis was hovering nearby, and a vicious, delighted smile curled his lips as he slowly flew over to them, reaching down and curling a hand around Koko's upper arm in order to fly the two out with him, chuckling lowly.

“Hario-chan,” he purred without glancing back at the softly-sniffling twelve-year-old. “A Human Heart is keeping you alive. You now have the required Heart Energy to cast spells without the needed Keeper. This is _wonderful_.” Absently, Zofis dodged around a massive chunk of ceiling as it fell, using the opening it left behind in order to fly out of the steadily collapsing facility, turning in the air to stare at the ruined building in satisfaction.

“Your Book cannot be burned, Hario-chan,” the effeminate demon informed him slyly. “The Human Heart that gives you such power, such an _advantage_... Well,” he chuckled coldly. “It's pumping your demon blood. A Human Heart mixing with the blood of a Mamodo... _Tainting_ it...” Zofis smirked, and aimed a hand at the facility, book glowing in Koko's hand.

“You are trapped here in the Human World, Hario-chan,” he hissed lowly. “You will _never_ be King!”

“ ** _Teoradomu!_** ” The resulting explosion made the ground tremble, even as Zofis cackled and flew away, Koko and Hario in tow.

Only smoke and ashes remained of the place that had caused Hario such heartache.

Smoke and ashes, and a broken heart.

 


	3. Chapter Two

**Heart Song**

** Chapter Two **

 

Hario only stayed with Zofis for a little while, before he managed to convince the older Mamodo to let him leave.

 _“America has too many painful memories,”_ _Hario had said quietly as Koko, the surprisingly cuddly Keeper, nuzzled her face against him as she usually did. “I want to travel for a little bit, see what I can see. I'm going to be here until I die, after all.”_

A sad smile, and casting pleading eyes on Zofis, were all that was needed after that. The older Mamodo loved feeling like he had all the power, but he had a small weak spot for his 'favorites'. So, Hario had made sure that it seemed like he was begging for permission to go, made it seem like he would have stayed if Zofis said no, and the older demon immediately gave in to his request.

So, Hario traveled, seeing all the tourist traps and unique places he could. Currently, he was in Africa, sitting on top of a boulder and watching a herd of wildebeest from a safe distance. _Hermione would love it here,_ he thought absently, and smiled with a soft sigh, eyes half-shut a he leaned back on his perch.

“Ohayo~!” A voice called; Hario blinked and looked over his shoulder. An older man with a goatee and a monocle was standing behind him, smiling. He was wearing an old fashioned tuxedo, with a cane and top-hat, and on top of his top-hat was a question mark. Perked on his shoulder was a small Mamodo in a blue outfit with a gold “K” on the front. He was wearing an equally blue graduation-styled hat with a gold tassel, and black hair peeked out from under it. He was smiling brightly up at Hario too, from behind his large glasses, and Hario couldn't help but think the kid was adorable.

“Ohayo, Jiji, Chibi,” he greeted, turning around fully and facing them with a small smile, sitting cross-legged on his boulder. He was wearing a short-sleeved green shirt with a white oval on his chest, the center of that oval holding a black music note. His shorts were black, as were his shoes, though his socks were green. His book lay in his black-and-green satchel at his side, and his white-and-silver hair ruffled in the warm wind.

“Are you here to fight?” He asked a little cautiously, frowning slightly. “I'm not in the running to be King anymore, you know,” he informed them softly, sadly, stroking his bag absently, bright eyes dulling a bit. “I can't return to Demon World, and my Book can no longer be burned. So,” he smiled faintly at them, feeling his scars pull, “there's no reason for us to fight at all!”

“Yay!” The small Mamodo cheered, grinning down at his Keeper. “Did you hear that, Professor?” The Professor chuckled and nodded, reaching up and plucking his hat from his head.

“Indeed I did, Kiddo, and I'm glad to have heard it.” The old man smiled up at Hario, who grinned back warmly. “My name is Professor Riddle, the man who knows a lot of things about a lot of things,” he said mysteriously, making his Mamodo ooh, sparkly-eyed.

“And my name's Kiddo!” The Mamodo chirped, beaming at Hario excitedly as he waved up at him, nearly falling off of the Professors shoulder if it weren't for the mans supporting hand. Hario laughed and stood up, leaping down to stand in front of them easily, Grinning, he sketched a polite bow, still grinning.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Professor, and you too, Kiddo!” he greeted back warmly. “My name is Hario, though you may know me as Hario the Damned,” he added, something grim and broken edged flashing through his eyes at the recently gained moniker. Very few knew him by that, though, and most of them had been returned to Demon World before they could spread it, so it didn't matter too much.

“What can I help you with?” Hario asked, pushing away his darker thoughts and straightening with a smile, only to startle and instinctively catch Kiddo when the young Mamodo leaped from his perch at him. Kiddo giggled and, amused, Hario let him scramble up into his thick white-and-silver hair, hiding in the thick spikes of it with more giggles.

“Actually, we are here to see I you would be willing to help us and our allies against a rising evil,” the Professor informed him, smile gone and face serious. Hario frowned, and felt his muscles tense, head bowing a bit.

“A rising evil?” he murmured; the Professor nodded seriously.

“There is a demon by the name of Lordo,” the Human told him seriously. “He has the ability to control the minds and hearts of others, and has made himself an army, by resurrecting forty demons from a thousand years ago, who had all been trapped within stone tablets. He does not care for those he controls, and manipulates them and their Keepers, forcing them to fight, most against their will.” Hario's fingers clenched into fists and he tilted his head forward, eyes falling into deep shadow, mouth in a thin line. “He wants to be King, and we _cannot_ allow this.”

“The ability to control the minds and hearts of others,” Hario murmured quietly. “There is only one demon I know who has that ability.” His fists clenched tighter, and his teeth ground together. “If it is the same demon, than I am torn over what to do,” he whispered hoarsely. “I owe my life to him, but... I can never allow such a demon to become King.” He lifted his fists to hi forehead, unclenching them so he could sink his fingers into his hair, tugging harshly on the strands. “I cannot betray one who saved me, but I cannot let him enslave our people.” He whispered, before a low, unhappy sob escaped him.

“I don't know what to do...” Tiny hands touched his own, and large hands landed gently on his shoulders. Startled, Hario lifted his head, tear-filled green eyes locking with understanding gray-blue.

“What happened to you was something I would wish on no one, and especially not a child,” the Professor told him softly, lifting a hand to gently touch Hario's scarred face. Tears slipped from Hario's eyes, and the broken edges of his soul peered out through them, making the Professor seem to age at the sight of them. The older man knelt down, and lifted both hands to cup Hario's face.

“I understand that you do not want to fight against the demon who saved you from that torture, little one,” he continued softly, kindly, before his eyes hardened ever so slightly, face becoming serious and slightly stern. “But, Hario-kun, think about this. That demon who saved you, who got you away from that torture... He is forcing innocents to fight. He is abusing others for his own sake, and capturing their hearts. He is taking away their free will, and entrapping them with his own.” Hario froze, eyes wide and horrified as he stared at the Professors chest, unable to meet those eyes.

“Will you help us stop him,” the Professor asked seriously, quietly; for a minute or so, the only sound was that of the wind blowing through the tall grass, and the distant wildebeest calling to one another.

“I will,” Hario whispered, and bowed his head.

 

**~*~*~*~*~**

 

Hario told the Professor and Kiddo that he would meet up with them and their allies later. That he may be late getting to the battle, but that he would definitely be there. He was going to search out some others, in hopes of gaining more allies.

However, he wasn't counting on many of the other Mamodo's wanting nothing to do with either him or Zofis.

“He's not _my_ problem,” some said.

“Why do you bother, anyways? It's not like whoever is King will effect _you_ ” others sneered.

In defeat, Hario began to reluctantly make his way towards South America, where Zofis had settled. He couldn't honestly _believe_ that he was, once again, being all but forced to fight another megalomaniac. Wasn't Voldemort enough?! Hell he had _died_ to kill off old Tom, and now, when he thought he'd get to live out this second life, not _only_ does he get tortured and trapped away from his _home_ , but the guy who _saved his life_ is the bad guy!

The Powers That Be must hate him, or something, he decided, continuing onward with a sigh.

This was going to be a memorable occasion.

 

**~*~*~*~*~**

 

Kiyomaru sighed as he finished his cup of coffee, watching as his friends and allies chatted and happily ate together, awaiting Professor Riddles' signal to go. Hell, they would have _already_ left, but the older man had given one of his cryptic 'I know something you don't know' kind of speeches, and told them to wait a little longer. Even now, he was smiling knowingly and watching the door-

Wait.

He was watching the door?

Kiyomaru sat up sharply and sent him an alarmed look, just as there was a knock.

“Who's that?” Gash asked curiously, him and Umagon wrestling over the last biscuit.

“A friend,” Professor Riddle declared cheerfully, already striding to the door, which he opened with a flourish and a warm smile. “Ohayo, Hario-kun!” He declared happily, and, from his place at the table, Kiddo squealed happily.

“Hario-nii came!? Yay!” he cheered, and a warm chuckle answered him as Professor Riddle stepped to the side, allowing the mostly-unexpected guest to enter. Kiyomaru felt his eyes widen at the strangers appearance.

He was a boy, and a demon from his facial markings. No older than thirteen, or else very short (and Kiyomaru could admit that demons age-to-size-to-mentality ratio was vastly disproportioned at times), with flame-styled spikes of white hair with unnatural silver highlights. His eyes were large and doleful, and a dark green, with a black music note underneath the right eye. He was wearing a green short-sleeved shirt, that had a white oval with a black music note in the center, and had a hood on the back as well. He was also wearing black shorts and shoes, with green socks, and a black satchel bag with green music notes on it, which, no doubt, held his book.

What made him and the others seem to freeze and stare, however, were the scars that seemed to be holding his face together, like a quilt or rag-doll. Thick and obviously made from horrible suturing, the scars were numerous and horrifying. Scars decorated his arms and legs, as well, though not as badly or as obviously as his face, and all Kiyomaru could do was distance himself a bit by calculating the placement and trajectory of the scars.

 _They're deliberate_ , he abruptly realized, and barely held back both a flinch of horror and an enraged snarl, fists clenching at his side. _Who,_ he wondered. _Who would do this to a **child**?!_

“Humans,” a light, kind voice said aloud, and Kiyomaru's head jerked up from where he was glaring at the ground, eyes wet with enraged tears, meeting those green eyes head on. He must have spoken out loud. The boy smiled at him, a little brokenly, and clenched a hand on the strap of his satchel. “My Keeper and I were kidnapped by a scientist who was privately sponsored, and were experimented on. My Keeper died,” he spoke softly, and the pain in his tone made several people in the room flinch. “Because of the experiments, however, my Book can't be burned, and I don't need a Keeper to cast spells.” He smiled, faintly, and nodded to the Professor when the man gestured him over to the breakfast table so he could eat, which the boy did, ravenously, just like every other Mamodo they had met before.

“Isn't that... A good thing, than?” Megumi asked hesitantly, biting her lip. Kiyomaru's mind flashed through a dozen ideas quickly at that. With that sort of advantage...

This boy couldn't be beaten, unless you literally killed him.

“It really isn't,” the boy said softly, eyes shadowed as he paused in his eating, before he resumed after the Professor gently sat a hand on his shoulder.

“Hario-kun may seem to have an advantage,” he informed the room at large, voice grim, “but, due to the experiments that gave him such things, he is no longer in the running to become King.”

“What?!” Gash gasped, eyes huge. “B-but, how!? Why?!” Kiyomaru, however, had figured it out, and his chest felt tight.

“His Book can't be burned,” he whispered; Gash turned to him, gold eyes bright and confused.

“Kiyomaru?” He asked; Kiyomaru's eyes were shadowed, his hands clenched at his sides, teeth clenched in fury.

“Gash... Think about it,” the teen said tightly, hoarsely. “What happens to a demon when their Book is burned?” Gash blinked, confused and beginning to definitely worry.

“They go home...” Realization flashed like lightning across those eyes, pupils going dull and small with horror. “Wait! That means-!?” Kiyomaru nodded tightly, and bowed his head.

“If his Book can't be burned,” he said quietly; Gash finished for him, whispering.

“Then he can't ever go back to demon world.” Horrified silence filled the room, as Hario continued to eat, expression hidden, and the Professor's hand on his shoulder.

“When Hario-kun is finished eating, we can go over the plan,” he declared; the group nodded uncertainly, and tried to not treat Hario with pity.

Kiyomaru wasn't sure if the succeeded at all, but Gash managed to get himself the seat right next to the older Mamodo, and Kiddo was scrambling up into the boy's ridiculously thick hair, babbling about all sorts of things as he did so. Hario didn't seem to mind, and in fact relaxed under the twos attention.

Kiyomaru hoped it helped, even if just a little bit.

 

**~*~*~*~*~**

 

“They've raised the number of guards,” Kiyomaru murmured from beside Hario as the thirteen of them peered over, under, around, and through the foliage at the doorway into the ruins. Two of the Ancient Mamodo stood on either side, their brainwashed humans nerd them, watching the area with bored but cautious eyes. “We got through too easily before, so they upped the threat level,” the teen continued, before he carefully picked up a fist-sized rock and, with a moment of calculation, threw it harshly away. The rock hit near a bush and rolled, making just enough noise to seem accidental, and the guards rushed over there to investigate.

“Now!” Kiyomaru hissed; the large group quickly and silently made their way into the ruins, Hario grabbing Kanchomé by the scruff when the younger Mamodo made to go back, most likely to mock their enemy, as he seemed the type.

“Not the best idea, Gaki,” he murmured, and lowered the duck-mouthed boy down to his side, easily keeping next to him, as the group ran deeper into the ruins, and closer to Zofis.


End file.
